Radioactive
by emiko139
Summary: Inspired by the Pentatonix cover of Radioactive by Imagine Dragons, so about a song rather than a musical/play. In a post-apocalyptic world a boy discovers a violin amongst the wreckage.
1. Chapter 1

A small, dark figure crested over the hill. The young boy was dressed in dark rags that covered his hands, tattered jeans, and a black tshirt that once had some sort of image on it. Though it was extremely bright outside, he wore a hoodie and large leather jacket as well because it was cold, very cold. It was always cold.

They said that before the Burst there were these things called seasons, and one of them was called Summer. It was always warm in summer, and warmth meant that people never needed to wear jackets. Shaheen couldn't imagine what that would be like, to not have to keep warm all the time, but people before the Blast had lived soft lives. They never knew what it was like to fight for survival, to travel from place to place to stay alive, to grow up only knowing hunger and the cold. Those of them who had lived in luxury before the Blast rarely survived in the harsh climate that came after it. The people that they had ignored and left to fend for themselves were the ones who had triumphed in the end after the Blast, because they knew how to survive in hardship. The rich ones never stood a chance.

Shaheen looked across the vast plain that lay before him. You had to be aware of your surroundings in this world if you wanted to live. He knew that being out in the open was dangerous because anyone could see you, but at the same time, he would always be able to see anyone who approached him. Shaheen shivered slightly despite his layers. That meant that it was going to be dark soon, and he had to find shelter for protection against bandits and the cold. He looked across the plain once more and spotted a dark smudge that could be a rock out crop or the remnants of some old buildings, the glass and concrete refuges that had once housed hundreds of people in just one of them. That was what people said, but Shaheen never believed such tall tales. How could anyone ever have the time and strength to build something like that? It was a waste of time and energy when bandits could pick you off at any time.

The young boy set off on his journey towards the smudge. If he hurried, he might be able to make it in time to do a proper sweep of the area before he bunked down for the night.

Eventually, he made it to the smudge. It turned out to be an old building that had been destroyed by the Blast. He explored the wreckage, making sure that he was the only one there - you never knew who would be hiding in the shadows, waiting to slit your throat and take all you have.

The coast was clear. He did another sweep this time, looking for a good spot to sleep in. As he walked around he noticed something brown peeking out from under a pile of the sand and grit that covered the floor. He knelt down to touch the thing - it was strangely patterened - and it was solid, if a bit rough. Shaheen brushed aside more of the sand and grit that had been protecting what looked like a panel of...wood. That was what the brown material was called. There were two metal rings on the wooden panels. Gingerly, he slipped his fingers around them and pulled gently. Years of neglect made the wood groan, and in some areas the material began to disintegrate.

Shaheen pulled again, this time with more force, and managed to get one of the wooden panels to open. It subsequently fell off the hinges that it had once been connected to. A blast of stale air hit Shaheen in the face, and he waited to let some fresh air enter into the receding darkness that lay below.

His heart hammered in his chest. A discovery like this, a place that no one had opened since before the Blast, was extremely rare in the scavenged and over-picked world that everyone lived in now. What lay down there he wondered? More clothes? The body of a pour soul who had no idea what had happened? Weapons? Shaheen hoped there was something useful that he could acquire.

The boy had waited long enough. He walked down the steps into the darkness and found himself at the bottom of the cellar. He couldn't see anything around him, so he got on his knees and felt around tentatively until his fingers touched something.

Shaheen spent the rest of the dwindling daylight pulling things out of the cellar. He had found strange artifacts that he didn't understand, like a hard black rectangle with squishy things that you could press, and a large hoop that had retained its bright colours. He kept the rectangle to sell later to the strange folk who liked to trade pre-Blast items for things he could actually use. The hoop was too large and would attract unwanted attention on the road. Thankfully there was also a bag with straps he could use to hold the supplies that he actually wanted to keep. There had also been several knives with blades that were relatively sharp, probably because they hadn't been affected as much by the Blast and no one had used them since.

The one thing he was most intrigued by was a black box-bag thing that was rectangular in shape. For some reason, he knew to be very careful with it when he brought it to the surface. He laid it down gently, and slowly unzipped the bag.

Shaheen didn't know what to think about what lay before him. It was a strange object that was also made out of wood, but it was shiny and smooth unlike the cellar door. It was curved strangely in the middle and had holes in it that looked like they were put there on purpose. A long stick part extended from the top of the thing and had knobs attached to it. There were strings that ran along the length of the object. Shaheen slowly put his hand out and plucked one of the strings.

Out of nowhere a sound rang out. Shaheen jumped to his feet and looked around, before realising that the sound had come from the object. He knelt down again, and this time plucked another string. A different sound rang out this time, but it was different to the one before. Each string he plucked gave out a different sound. Shaheen's heart almost exploded out of his chest. He knew that he had discovered something amazing and unheard of in the post-Blast world. He had never heard sounds like this before. If he sold this to a collector he might never have to scavenge again.

He ran a hand through his dark curls and sat back on his haunches, staring at the thing.

"You are going to save me," he said to it.


	2. Chapter 2

Shaheen woke up the next day feeling excited, something he had rarely felt in his whole life. This strange thing he had discovered was going to help him start a new life. It might even help him establish himself in the rare towns that had survived the Blast, where people were well off enough to stay in one place and make a living for themselves.

He turned on the floor to look at the box-bag that lay next to him. Shaheen had been worried that something would happen to the Thing while he was sleeping, so he had placed it right next to him, falling asleep with an arm wrapped about it. He opened it up again, wanting to hear the sounds that the object had made once more. The boy knew that he should probably get a start on finding a collector. It was never good to stay in one place for very long, but he wanted to savour his find a little more before he sold it. He decided he would spend the day playing around with the Thing.

Once again, he began to pluck the strings, enjoying each sound that they made. He wondered how they could all sound different when they all looked the same. Using one finger to drag across all the strings, his eyes widened at the sounds that the motion made. Over and over again he dragged his finger across the string, delighting in how the action sounded. After he was satisfied with that, he lay on his back, trying to make the same noises with his voice. He laughed at his feeble attempts to sound as beautiful as the Thing. There was nothing like it in the world. Perhaps the people before the Blast really had made buildings that could house hundreds of people. They must have been able to do something like that if they had also created something that could sound as beautiful as the magical object.

Shaheen turned over onto his belly, gazing at the object. He had reverently placed in back in the hole that was made to fit its shape perfectly, stroking the soft fabric that covered the inside of the box-bag. That was when he noticed the strange thing that laid right next to the object He crawled over to it - how had he not noticed it before? Was he so blind that he couldn't see something right in front of him? He cursed himself silently for missing something so important. He had been so caught up in the thing that he had not done what everyone knew you had to do if you didn't want to die - check everything.

Slowly, his fingers grasped the long stick that he had not seen before. It was made of the same shiny and smooth wood that the Thing was made of. It also had strings, but these were soft and thin and there were more than he could count, all packed tightly together. He wondered what it was for, lifting it up to have a better look at it. Shaheen grinned at how the stick swooshed in the air as he waved it about. Perhaps it was some sort of weapon, to help the owner of the thing defend himself. The object was certainly worth killing for. No, the stick must have something to do with the Thing if it was made of the same wood.

He tried rapping the stick against the body of the Thing. It made a sound, but not like the ones made by the strings. Something about it wasn't right. He put the stick back in its pocket and sat cross-legged, staring at the box-bag, trying to figure out why the stick was there. Then he cursed himself again, this time out loud, because he had noticed something that he had failed to see yet again. He was really going to get himself killed soon if he kept on missing things that he shouldn't have missed. Shaheen leant forward and pulled on a small piece of fabric that stuck out at the edge of the side of the box-bag that didn't hold the Thing and the stick. How clever of the pre-Blast people to hide things like this! Pulling on the small piece of fabric, the inner part of the box-bag fell away.

At first, Shaheen almost cried, thinking that he had broken the box-bag. But crying was a waste of water, and it turned out that the inner part was still connected at the place where it met the other half of the box-bag. Shaheen down at what lay before him, and almost cried again, this time, from happiness.

What lay before him was a book. A real book. A book made out of real paper with words on it. He couldn't read the words, but that didn't matter because books in the post-Blast world were worth a lot. As in a lot, a lot. As in definitely worth enough to settle down in a town for life, a lot. If the Thing wasn't going to make him rich, the book would.

It was after he got a hold on his emotions that he realised what exactly he was looking at. The front of the book had the image of someone holding the Thing, _and the stick. _The person on the book had placed the Thing settled beneath their chin and shoulder, holding the stick part of the Thing in one hand, and the actual stick in the other. The stick was placed along the strings of the Thing.

That was it! The stick was meant to make the sounds come out of the Thing! In his excitement he almost dropped the Thing after hurriedly picking it up again. He really was going to get himself killed at some point with all these mistakes he was making. Trembling, he placed the Thing between his chin and shoulder, like the person on the book. He discovered that the little black part that was underneath the Thing was there to make it more comfortable when holding it in place. Still trembling, Shaheen took in a deep breath, and then pulled the stick along the strings of the Thing, imagining that it was like his finger dragging along the strings this morning.

He almost dropped the Thing a second time out of shock. The sound that the Thing produced was...there were no words to describe it. It was sweeter and more beautiful than he had ever imagined; he never thought that sounds more amazing than the ones made by plucking the strings could have existed.

That was when he knew that he couldn't sell the Thing. It was too precious. There was no price that would ever make him part with it. Sure, he would be giving up a stable town life, but the Thing was worth it.


End file.
